A Dance Across the Cosmos
by SonicTeamCE
Summary: Time and space locked in an infinite dance across the cosmos, and if you know the tune, anything is possible. / Inspired by stars, ice skating, and missing each other. The Doctor tries to impress River, but it seems they are an even match.


**AN ~ I've been having Doctor/River feels lately. And just Doctor feels. Eleven! My baby! My Doctor! [straightens bow tie] I'm fine. I'm the Queen of Okay. Anyway, enjoy.**

_Time and space locked in an infinite dance across the cosmos, and if you know the tune, anything is possible. ~ _Brian Cox

A Dance Across the Cosmos

"Where's the bathroom?" River asked, sticking her head around the corner. "I'm sure I left it around here somewhere."

"Oh, you know," the Doctor shrugged, ducking past her and then twirling around to face her. His feet were as smooth as an ice skater, but his hands flailed madly as he gestured down another hall.

"Try over there."

She grinned at him. He seemed eager to get under her feet tonight. Perhaps it was time she got under his. She pressed a finger to his chest and, surprised, he stepped back as she stepped forward, until his shoulder blades tapped the wall. The spell was shaken, his limbs almost recovering function, until she gave him a lascivious smirk and slid her finger along his collarbone as she passed. She heard his breath catch and chuckled quietly as she sashayed towards the alleged bathroom.

He should have known he could not sneak up on her. His arms latched around her waist and he bent to kiss her neck, only to be swept off his feet in a swift turn. She grinned, openly this time, teasing him – but he had foreseen this. Just before he collided with the side of the corridor he pulled her into an extra turn, knocking the smile straight off her face as his feet touched the ground and he pushed her a few inches out of the spin, so that it was she who hit the wall instead. Holding one of her wrists in each hand, he raised his long arms and pinned hers above their heads before leaning into claim his prize, a kiss.

The kiss itself was like a dive: swiftly plunging deep and then retreating, at first just as swiftly, but then slower. As he pulled away he opened his eyes. Hers were closed, for a second longer than his, but she must have felt him looking, because when she did open her eyes, she was staring straight into his.

"You win this round, Time Lord," she breathed, but he didn't hear her, too entranced by her shining eyes.

They were beautiful. Not quite the colour of silver. Not quite the colour of clouds. They were the colour of River: beautiful, precious, sad and lonely and romantic, and sparkling with equal parts curiosity, and mystery of her own. And they were young. They were younger than he had thought.

Above them, his elbows unlocked. She too had apparently forgotten about these limbs, and together, their four hands slipped.

"Look at you," the Doctor murmured, his voice impossibly low, and almost inaudible. "You're-"

He was cut off when something sharp and heavy slammed against the top of his head. He jumped back, and River jumped forward, but when his hands hurried to investigate, rifling through his hair, all they found was each other.

"You beautiful idiot!" River laughed, as clear as bells, and took one of his hands in each of hers, wrapping his arms back around herself and sidling right up to him. She tweaked his bow tie, kissed him quickly, and pulled back again, grinning up at him and waiting.

As one they took a breath, and kissed each other with it. Blind, he reached out sideways for the door handle. He wasn't sure if he reached it or not but the door opened anyway and he pulled her into the room. She let finally let go, breathing hard for a few takes as she regained her breath.

She looked around the room. It was so similar to the last time she remembered – a large, round room with bookshelves all around, littered with everything from dictionaries to picture books and all manner of miscellaneous artifacts. Opposite her was a large, luscious double bed, which the Doctor stood beside, arms raised as if demonstrating it to her.

"You got rid of the bunk beds," she noted, pouting. The Doctor pouted back and she laughed: he could do it so much better than she could.

"I can put them back if you like."

"You most certainly can not!"

She ran. He knew what was coming but he was frozen to the spot as she grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him so fiercely he thought she might start drawing the blood right out of him. Leaving him dazed, she left his lips, only her eyes – now dark, her pupils wide with desire – holding him there. Under the frock coat her hands gripped his lean sides and she lifted him, dropping him back onto the bed and crawling on top of him.

He squirmed underneath her, apparently having been hoping to be the one in control tonight. She relished it, grinning devilishly as she squirmed back against him, and he groaned.

First things first: she whipped off the bow tie, and for good measure, passed it between her teeth as she pretended to be pondering what to do with it. Then, just as swiftly, she forced his arms back and tied his wrists to the bed head.

"River!" Twisting his neck in an attempt to watch the knot, he bucked against her, yanking against his bonds, irritated because had been dying to paint her in kisses for so long.

The frock coat splayed underneath him, and its lapels fell open as he struggled between freeing himself, and besting her with his own lips. It seemed a fight he was destined to lose as her hands pulled at his braces, and then his buttons. When at last his shirt hung open she ran her finger across his bare, pale stomach and he gasped, feeling as though she was painting ice across his burning skin.

She let go of his lips and sat back as, eyes closed in reverent savouring of her touch, he continued to breathe beautiful, hapless, raggedy breaths. She leant down and pressed into his stomach with both hands, sliding them outwards with splayed fingers, like a massage. She drew back and repeated the move: starting just a below his belly button and pressing upwards and outwards, sending a shudder through his body. Her smile began to transform once again into a beaming grin as she realised he must be frightfully ticklish. The only reason he was staying so still was because he had to, because any more pressure against…certain parts…would be almost unbearably uncomfortable.

Slowly, deliberately, she shifted her weight, applying that terrible pressure. Just as she had expected, he moaned and pressed back against her.

"_River."_

She smiled gently, and with one hand, swept his fringe out of his face. The other slipped down to the button and the zipper on his pants. She moved slowly, trying not to disturb his impressive erection. She may have taken the teasing a bit far this time; she must have misjudged his desperation.

Suddenly, she found herself on her back. His fringe dangled in her face and he grinned at her, eyes all of a sudden wide and shining and alert. His hands, now free, pinned her for a moment – then suddenly it wasn't his arms pinning her but his body, and one hand was by her ear, twisting a lock of hair around a finger, and the other hand had slipped her underwear as far down her legs as he could reach.

"How many hands do you have?" she gasped, outraged and impressed at once. His face lit up with a mischevious grin as his hands moved again, one to her hip and one her head, his thumb tracing the outline of her ear as he pressed the pair of them together from head to toe.


End file.
